


Wounds and Scars

by agent85



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Christianity, Easter, F/M, Good Friday, Guilt, Religious Discussion, Self-Worth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 08:19:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6462799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent85/pseuds/agent85
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You don't believe?"</p><p>Jemma looked up and gulped. "I uh, no." </p><p>She could feel Elena's gaze on her, digging through her ribs and piercing her heart.</p><p>"Ah," Elena said, "no matter. God believes in you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wounds and Scars

**Author's Note:**

> Happy (belated) Easter!

"There," said Fitz as he tapped a few adjustments on his tablet, "that should work. Let me know if there are any problems."

Before she knew it, Fitz was gone, and there she was, alone with the woman Mack called "YoYo."

It occurred to her too late that she should try to say something.

"Yes, well. Should we get started?"

She expected to hear the translation before she realized that only Elena could. Elena nodded.

"What would you like me to do?"

It was jarring, watching Elena's lips pronounce Spanish words and hearing a stiff, English voice speak over them. It was like watching a translation voiceover on the news, but then, she supposed this was basically the same thing. She helped design it, after all.

"Well, I uh, I'd like some blood samples, if you don't mind, and then we'll do some simple speed tests, and you'll be on your way."

Elena nodded. "Good. I have a lot to do. It's Good Friday tomorrow."

"Ah," said Jemma, and when Elena gave her a knowing smile, it only got more awkward. Jemma washed her hands and was grateful for an excuse to look away. "Well, wouldn't want to keep you from . . . that."

She felt Elena's gaze on her as she disinfected the entry site, and as she stuck the needle in Elena's arm, Elena asked, "Why does his hand shake?"

Jemma froze, almost sure it was simply a bad translation when Elena pointed to the door Fitz exited. "His hands. They shake."

Jemma gulped. "Yes, well. He had an accident."

She filled the tube and retracted the needle, quickly pressing down on the wound with gauze. Somehow, this reminded her of all the blood she'd taken from Daisy when this first began. Fitz had been there, too, before everything. 

"What kind of accident can do that?"

She turned to Elena in surprise, finding a genuinely curious look on her face.

"Excuse me?"

Elena frowned. "How . . . how did it happen?"

Jemma took a step back as fresh wave of guilt washed over her. "It was, uh, well . . . he almost drowned saving me." She clenched her hand into a fist, and yes, that moment had always been on the list of things Helpless Little Agent Simmons had caused, but she didn't expect the wound to be so tender. "He came back with brain damage," she continued. "He's um . . . he's come a long way, but . . ."

"Ah," said Elena, "does he love you?"

Jemma felt her heart pound, and she immediately turned away, finding the blood sample in her hand and immediately going to put it away.

"Well, I um, we're SHIELD agents, and we have a duty to each other, you know. He's, um, we've been friends for a long time, so . . ."

She shut her eyes as tightly as she could and took a deep breath. Soon, she would hopefully convince May to train her to properly dodge an assailant, and she could be sure that this sort of thing would never happen again. But now, as she pretended to rummage through drawers for supplies, she felt the dread creep into her heart and take root. How did she know that they wouldn't be chased through corridors again? She'd already been chased by Donnie, by Hydra agents, and by Cal. Who was to say it wouldn't happen again next week? Or tomorrow? 

She would need to speak to May about it as soon as possible. There was no other solution.

She turned back and found Elena's searching eyes. Was she on trial here? Was SHIELD? Or was this simply the Columbian version of small talk?

"It's okay," Elena said, a warm smile on her lips. "My mother always said that Jesus had scars, too. Did you know that?"

Jemma took a breath and wasn't sure what to say when Elena continued, "He got them the same way. For love. But it always bothered me. When I was a little girl, I always wondered: if he could raise himself from the dead, why did he still have scars? Couldn't he heal those, too? I spent a lot of time thinking about it, and then I realized that they weren't just scars. They were . . . His friends, they would see them and they would know."

"Evidence," offered Jemma.

Elena shrugged. "I suppose. Some of his friends didn't believe that it was him until they saw the scars for themselves.  He was supposed to be the Son of God. The scars proved that he was." 

Jemma clamped her mouth shut, convinced that there was not a syllable on the English tongue that could save her, and found herself staring at a clipboard.

"You don't believe?"

Jemma looked up and gulped. "I uh, no." 

She could feel Elena's gaze on her, digging through her ribs and piercing her heart.

"Ah," Elena said, "no matter. God believes in you. He died for you, too."

Jemma furrowed her eyebrows.

"I've had enough of men dying for me, thank you very much. Now, if you would be so kind as to put on this suit, I would be very grateful. I'll track your vitals as we run the tests. There's a place over there where you can change."

Jemma pointed towards a partition on the other end of the lab, and Elena quickly obeyed. Within moments, Elena emerged, and Jemma remembered another hero who had donned a similar suit, one whom she couldn't save.  

"Okay," she made herself say, "Let's go to the course Fitz has prepared in the hangar. You'll find a series of doors, and attached to each door is a box with a lid that shuts at varying speeds. You'll need to get the key in each box, get through all the doors, and you'll be done. This way."

Fitz smiled when he saw them, and somehow that made to guilt fester in her. Why could she not let go of it? It seemed to only grow as Fitz explained the rules to Elena, and when she was off, the look on his face almost made it boil over.

"What's wrong?"

She could only hope her smile fooled him.

"Nothing. Elena was talking to me about her faith, that's all."

"Well, of course," he said. "It's Good Friday tomorrow. What?"

Jemma returned her gaze to her tablet. "Nothing."

Fitz had hoped that Elena would be able to complete the course in five minutes or less, so when seven minutes had passed, she heard Fitz tap his foot and reached out to grab his hand before she stopped herself. 

"It's her first time," she soothed instead.

"I know."

"We still haven't figured out how her powers work yet."

"But we will."

It was still a shock to her, the way he used that pronoun so easily after it had been in mothballs for so long. But, more than that, he said it with a confidence that echoed those days when they could fix anything. Her hand twitched, longing to hold his more out of sheer need than instinct now. But this was the hand that shook, and she didn't dare, knowing that she was the one who made it that way.

If the world were fair, if Hydra hadn't leeched onto SHIELD like a parasite and emerged just in time to ruin her whole life, his hand wouldn't shake, and she was sure she would never let go of it. But, tragically, that was not the world she lived in, and she had to be content with the scraps of his smile.

And yet, he did smile at her.

In the end, it took a full nine minutes for Elena to get through the final door, and she glowed with such pride that Jemma gently elbowed Fitz before he could grump about it.

"Wonderful job, Elena," she said over him. "Now, I'm fairly certain that we have all the data we need, so let me take you back to the lab so you can change and get back to your life."

As she lead Elena out, she couldn't help but look back at Fitz and see that he was still smiling at her. Even as she felt the tug at the corner of her mouth, she knew that she didn't deserve it.

"You shouldn't worry about it," Elena said as she headed toward to partition. "It doesn't mean you're bad. It means that you're worth fighting for."

"Excuse me?"

"The scars. You didn't ask him to suffer; he chose to do it because you are worth saving. He keeps the scars because he is not ashamed of the sacrifice. He is willing to be defined by it, so long as you are better off. So long as you can look at them and know how much he loves you. The scars, as you say, are the evidence of his love and your value."

Jemma simply stared at her, mouth hanging open, until Elena asked, "Does he know about _your_ scars?"

It was then that May poked her head in and collected her passenger, saving Jemma from a reply. Elena smiled as she waved, Jemma could only dumbly wave back.

"How does it look?"

Jemma jumped. "Hmm?"

"The blood samples," said Fitz as he walked past her on the way to the station. "I hope you get better results than I did." 

"I haven't started my analysis yet," she admitted, ducking her head, "we were talking."

Fitz turned back to her, cocking his head. "Okay, well I can help, if you'd like."

"Oh, you don't have to—"

"'S not a problem; I want to. Where do you want me?"

Jemma stared at him for a moment before she pointed to a station and gave him instructions, and off he went. She watched him working for a bit, and as the affection for him swelled in her heart, she thought, not for the first time, how easy it would have been to do it all for him. She would give him the last breath, she would let him leave her, and she would fight a one-woman war to bring him back again. 

It wouldn't even be a choice, really. It would be a need.

He was, simply put, the most valuable thing in the universe. 

But as Fitz turned to her with just a hint of his boyish enthusiasm and a storm of butterflies raged in her chest, she realized that she certainly had a lot to think about. Had it been a need for him, too? She pondered the curve of his smile, mixed by the shake of his hand, and this time, the guilt didn't pierce her. And while it didn't evaporate or subside, she thought that maybe she could feel a corner of it wearing away. 

And for the first time in a long time, Jemma gave a sigh of relief.

**Author's Note:**

> I regularly post sneak peeks and general ramblings about my writing on [my tumblr](http://agent-85.tumblr.com/tagged/Writings%20of%20Agent%2085).


End file.
